Step Up
by suzukeii
Summary: When Leaf Green is accepted on scholarship to the prestigious Whittaker Academy of Dance, she expects all work and no play: not drama, not dishwashing, and definitely not a ridiculously attractive player intent on making her his next conquest. But with the possibility of the school shutting down, she'll need to step up...or step out.
1. I'm literally surrounded by girls

**_I'm literally surrounded by girls._**

* * *

The final note of music sounded as Leaf Green landed in her concluding pose, her heartbeat quick and breath short.

"Not too bad today," Louis declared, stepping away from the counter from where he'd been observing her. "Watch your control on the split." Leaf rolled her eyes at his verdict and allowed herself a liberal sip of water before retaliating.

"And I suppose you could do better?" she said, but it was a total bluff. Even with a decade and a half of experience already under her own belt, Louis Hardy could still dance circles around her. She ran her fingers through her loosened ponytail.

But he was still not one to back down from a challenge as he strode to the middle of the floor in time for the next song.

Sometimes Leaf thought that Louis Hardy was irrevocable proof of reincarnation. She looked at him as he danced and she saw Bob Fosse. There was something else in there, too, though, something completely his own that mesmerised her every time she watched him.

She could certainly admire Louis Hardy's physique as he twirled and leapt across the floor, but there was nothing sexual about the way she looked at him. Perhaps it was because she'd known him for the past seven years, since she was but a string bean eleven-year-old, and she'd simply never had the opportunity to see him past the mentor and friend he had become to her.

The song finally faded to an end, three and a half minutes of no-less-than-impressive improvised choreography, and Leaf gave him the satisfaction of a slow clap, at which he bowed comically deeply.

"You've been looking at colleges yet?" Louis asked later, leaning against the wooden door frame to Room 1 as Leaf gathered her belongings from the lobby of the Pallet Town Studio of Dance.

Leaf never seemed to hear the end of that question from every appropriately-concerned adult in her vicinity. In the tail end of her senior year of high school, _yes_ , she had been looking, thanks for asking.

"I've been considering going abroad," she said, her spiel memorised from reciting it dozens of times, "but I've already applied to Viridian, Celadon, and Blackthorn-"

"Blackthorn?" Louis interrupted, and Leaf almost gave him a stink eye for breaking her momentum.

" _Yes_ ," she said, "and I've been offered partial scholarships for their chemistry programmes-"

"Speaking of Blackthorn," the incorrigible blond spoke over her again, "have you heard of Whittaker Academy there?" The name seemed vaguely familiar.

"Might have," Leaf said glibly. " _Anyway_ , as I was saying-"

"I really think it'd be a good idea for you to check it out," he said, and he met Leaf's glare with a cheeky smile. Yes, he was interrupting her yet again, and yes, it was rude, and yes, he totally knew it. "It's an exceptional dance school, and you can get a teaching degree there. I think you're pretty eligible for a scholarship. Not to mention _yours truly_ is an alumnus." Louis followed her out of the studio into the bright June sunlight that made his hair shine like gold.

Since she'd begun classes with him, they'd established a system of walking home together — his house, after all, was a mere coincidental two streets down from hers. Today was no different, though he was still pestering her about the school.

"I mentioned Whittaker to your mom, too," Louis said from beside Leaf as they strolled along the pavement. "She said it would be a good idea."

"Oh, did she," Leaf said with feigned disinterest.

"Seriously. Consider it," he insisted. "You've only got a bit of time left. What's the harm in applying for one more school?"

"Fine," she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation, just to appease him. There was no way she would even bother.

oOo

So maybe she'd taken a small _peek_ at the site of the Whittaker Academy of Dance, as formal as its name. But just to check it out. She had no intention of, oh golly, _applying_ or something crazy like that.

The main page of the site boasted a slideshow of photographs taken of the campus, classes, and performances, but there was a distinct lack of any kind of candid pictures of the students. After some tab manoeuvring, Leaf found the admissions page where she could apply.

She scrolled through the requirements, but halfway down she realised this was ridiculous. With a transcript like hers, she was guaranteed a spot in the universities to which she'd already applied. Dancing was just a hobby.

 _What's the harm in applying for one more school?_ Louis's words echoed in her head as her cursor hovered over the little "x" to close the tab.

"Damn you, Louis," she muttered, but she cracked a smile. Dancing wasn't just a hobby. It was a habit.

A stutter had taken up residence in her chest by the time she clicked "Submit Application" after, of course, triple checking that every space had been filled to perfection. Rather than record a totally new video of her dancing, Leaf had shuffled through her routines from within the past few months to find the best one, which, upon careful deliberation, came down to a flashy little number to "You Can't Stop the Beat" and a smoother one, though slightly risqué (naturally), to "All That Jazz".

She closed her eyes, muttered a quick prayer to her father, and jabbed at the screen, finding her finger about two inches away from "YCSTB" but only one inch away from "All That Jazz".

oOo

Murmurs rippled through the well-air-conditioned meeting room as Scott Abraham stepped in, though he estimated only one out of twenty conversations was about his entrance. Probably Tom Barkal making his ears burn again. Hypercritical and holier-than-thou Clair Christiansen, closest advisor to the mayor of Blackthorn City, deigned to greet him.

"How nice of you to come out of retirement for this," she said, and he expected she was suppressing a particularly mocking sneer to keep up appearances.

In lieu of an easy riposte, Scott merely said, "How do you do, Clair" and passed by her and her head of blue hair to find a seat near the good mayor, Cecil Dunn, a portly man with a salt-and-pepper beard who preferred to sit only when lying down was out of the question.

"Ah, Scott Abraham," he said in that booming bureaucrat voice. "Good to see you again. Whittaker is holding up well, I take it?"

"So I've heard from Theodore."

The council covered several topics that nearly made Scott fall asleep, including the uncertain future of the late Mrs Ethel Callaway's six cats and the wording of a notice that had been recently tacked up by the public library (under intense debate was the use of the subjunctive mood).

Of all people, it was Clair who commenced the conversation on the state of the Whittaker Academy of Dance and snapped Scott awake.

"It has come to our attention," she announced, somewhat smugly if he were not mistaken, "that the current headmaster of Whittaker Academy, Theodore Locke, has decided to resign from his position with no replacement in his stead." She cast a gaze over all of the meeting attendees to make certain she had all of their attention. "Now, we are aware of the issues plaguing this school, which is supported by town subsidies and some student tuitions. There have been attempts to shut it down in years earlier, none of which have come to fruition-"

Scott cleared his throat loudly and stood from his seat, and Clair stopped with a thinly-veiled glare at him.

"Now," she continued, "our very own Scott Abraham has taken it upon himself to become the next headmaster of this dying school."

"Clair," he abruptly said in that stern way that still made even her cower, if only internally. "Whittaker makes dreams and careers possible for the future of Johto. It takes exceptional natural talent and hones it into a marketable skill for its students. This school is what Blackthorn _needs_. I refuse to let it die."

"And the problems with students? Eating disorders were rampant, last I heard."

Clair had been the one to speak, but Scott Abraham addressed Mayor Dunn in his careful answer. "They _were_ , sir, several years ago. We've since taken great care to keep the health of our students in mind. Every student is required to sign in for three meals a day, and we've established a buddy system of sorts so that the students can help each other."

Clair, apparently finished, lowered herself to her seat with a thoughtful frown as the mayor spoke. "And you believe you can take Theodore Locke's place as the new headmaster?"

"Absolutely, sir," Scott assured him. "As an acquaintance of Mr Locke and a former teacher, I am familiar with the workings of the school and expect that I might be qualified to take this position."

"Well, good to see that's all sorted out," Mayor Dunn said with a smile from behind his bushy beard. "Next topic of discussion, Clair?"

"Actually," she said, patronising, "I don't believe we're quite done with the topic at hand." Then, to Scott, "And how do you expect the people of this city to believe that you've provided not only empty statements about the importance of this school? Perhaps your _talent_ is not as impressive as you insist it is."

Just as Scott Abraham was about to speak, the mayor suddenly cut in with a clap of his hands that made Clair blink in surprise. "Aha! A recital! A show! What do you call them?" Scott assured him that _recital_ was appropriate enough. "Open to public viewing."

"We'll restore the faith that appears to be lacking in some quarters of the town," Scott said. He wasn't outright looking at Clair at this, but she still got that eerie feeling he was watching her. "A showcase, performed by the students of the Whittaker Academy of Dance of Blackthorn City and open to the public, to display their talents and represent the importance of the school for its students and its community. Are there any objections?"

Here he nailed Clair with that teacher look, _that_ one, daring her to say something, and it was partly because of that she did not put forth any protestations. The rest of the meeting attendees accepted without demur, but one man, Barkal, damn it, stood and asked in that nasal voice, "Do we have a date in mind for this...recital?"

"Graduation will be on June fifteenth of next year, and the final day of studies will be June twelfth. I recommend setting it for the twelfth."

"June twelfth it is!" Mayor Dunn declared. "Whittaker Dance Academy-"

"Academy of Dance, sir," Scott coughed.

"-will provide a showcase of its very best talent to convince us of its importance and possibilities." The mayor banged his gavel on his raised desk. "Next topic of discussion?"

oOo

On the morning of July fifteenth, Leaf hopped down the stairs two at a time for some reason, probably because of the pleasant dream she'd had (barring the one moment her friend had yelled at her to brush her teeth). Or maybe it was the thought of making pancakes for breakfast with the mix she and her mother had bought the day before.

She skidded to a stop in the entryway to the kitchen when she saw her mother standing by the table, a piece of paper in her hand and a hand lifted to her mouth. An envelope, no doubt in which the paper had arrived, laid nearby, a creamy white to contrast with the red tablecloth.

When she recognised the stamp on the envelope (how could she forget?) and connected it to the forlorn expression on her mother's face, Leaf blanched. She could feel her hands grow numb, the uncomfortable cold that settled into her very core. Nothing to ruin an otherwise nice morning like being rejected from university.

"Leaf…" her mother said softly, her eyes downcast as her daughter stepped slowly toward her.

She knew it she knew it _she knew it_. She knew she should have picked _Hairspray_. Everybody loves _Hairspray_. Dammit Dad why did you-

Then Leaf realised her mother was laughing, actually laughing, for the first time in four years, and the sound was so foreign she almost didn't recognise it. She snatched the letter out of her hands and read it for herself, any chilling sense of disappointment melting away at the sight of those words, " _Congratulations, Miss Leaf Green, on your acceptance to the Whittaker Academy of Dance of Blackthorn City_ ". Of course, she pinched herself at that, ecstatic at the sharp pain that came.

Her mother, once she'd gotten over her laughing fit, gathered a still-somewhat-frozen-in-shock Leaf in her arms.

"Oh, baby, I'm so happy for you," she murmured into her hair. Leaf threw her arms around her mother in return, a smile growing wider and wider across her face.

 _Whittaker, here I come._

oOo

Gary adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he leaned over to peek at Drew's schedule on their way to the student resident hall. "Seriously?" he asked, the corner of his lips quirking up. "You're still going with ballet?" There was a half-joking accusation in there Drew was quick to deflect.

"It's not _gay_!" Drew jabbed a finger at smirking Gary to punctuate his words. "Think about it. I'm literally _surrounded by girls_. It's the best major."

It suddenly dawned on his friend that that was a perfectly serviceable point, and he nodded concedingly. "That's...actually genius."

"You pigs," deadpanned Paul Shinji from the other side of Drew. Three years ago, when he'd met the two, he might have scowled at them, too, but these days nothing they said really shocked him enough to merit more than a couple of flat words and, if he was feeling particularly generous, an eyeroll.

After all, the first day, when he'd met his new roommate, Gary Oak, the boy had been kind enough to give him a pair of earplugs. He swore there was a new girl every week, and he definitely steered clear of their room on Friday nights, which tended to be the worst, as he'd learned from bleach-worthy experience.

"Oh, _Gary!_ "

How coincidental.

Gary slid the aviator sunglasses that had been sitting on the top of his head down over his eyes and grimaced, bracing himself for incorrigible Three Weeks Ago.

"I was wondering," she said once she'd caught up to him, "if you wanted to, you know, go out or something sometime soon." She twirled a lock of her ombre hair.

"Aw, gee...Jess-"

"Jillian."

"Jillian, yeah, I just...with classes starting and all, I'm going to be so busy. You know I'd love to, baby."

"Uh, that's fine! Oh my _gosh_ , I'll be just the same." At the sound of another girl shouting her name, she glanced over to the centre courtyard, where a whole gaggle of girls had accumulated. She turned back to Gary, one last imploring look in her blue eyes, and said, "I'll see you around?" before jogging off with a wave.

"Stay sexy!" he called after her, then turned back to his friends and complained, "I've got a nice system, and then some crazy girl tries to screw with it."

"Somehow I get the feeling it's not all _their_ faults," Drew said, rolling his eyes.

oOo

 _"Did you get your course schedule, Dawn?"_

"Yes," Dawn said into her mobile, tucked between her shoulder and her jaw, as she smoothed out said schedule on the teak desk in her one-student room.

 _"I've already spoken with your teachers."_ Of course she had. _"You'll have your private lessons with Natalia on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."_

"Okay."

 _"I don't need a repeat of last year. I expect no less than the best. Work hard. Work smart."_

"Okay."

And the line went silent with a click as Johanna Berlitz, mother extraordinaire, hung up a thousand miles away without so much as a goodbye. No surprise there.

"See you later, too," Dawn muttered to her mobile, tapping the screen to get to her list of contacts. What was taking May so long? It was already evening.

oOo

"Come on, you're just holding us up."

"That's impossible. I'm not _that_ strong." May's parents cracked smiles at her joke, but Max, the twerp who'd complained, rolled his eyes as she stuffed an informational brochure for Whittaker back in her backpack. She'd brandished it in front of her younger brother's face, teasing him that he should come to dancing school instead of becoming an electrical engineer.

"I've got my _own_ school to get to, if you don't mind," he droned, and May swallowed uncomfortably and stuck her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts.

Right.

Fifteen-year-old Super Fantastic Genius Maxwell Elliot Maple had been accepted to the University of Lumiose's engineering programme a month or so ago on the basis of academic excellence and incredible promise in the field. Apparently word had spread and even a school approximately one gazillion miles away wanted him.

And now, as her family's week-long holiday with her in Blackthorn drew to a close, this was essentially the last time she would be able to see him in the next five or eight years or however long he was going to hole himself up with his studies. May watched as he walked off to their car, a silver coupé they'd loaned for the week. Bless his heart.

So much for fond farewells.

Her parents were understanding enough to shake their heads disapprovingly at him and give May a last hug.

"You'll visit us on winter break," her mother insisted. "And spring break."

"Caroline," her father said, just a bit gruff. "Don't be suffocating her. You'll do great, kiddo." He ruffled her caramel hair like he'd always done, probably ever since she'd had hair.

"Keep your grades up!" her mother nagged, as she was obligated to by The Book of Parenting. "But we're proud of you. Our baby girl is going to college."

May rolled her eyes, feeling like Max, as her mother sighed. "I'm _not_ a baby, Momma. And it won't feel any different. It's still the same school." She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and glanced at the watch on her wrist, balking internally at the time. Dawn was probably getting impatient waiting for her.

 _Speak of the devil_ , she thought as her mobile buzzed in her pocket.

"Listen," May said quickly, throwing her arms around her parents one last time. "Uh, have a peachy trip back, love you lots, bye!" She started to jog off toward the student residence halls but faced back for a moment to wave and call, "Tell Max he's a dork!"

Just as she turned back to walk forward, she found herself crashing into someone not sturdy enough to halt her at jogging speed, and she ended on the ground, her limbs splayed out, half on top of an all-too-familiar guy with all-too-familiar green hair.

"You're really great with the whole greeting thing, aren't you, December?" Drew Hayden teased and flicked her in the forehead before she scrambled up totally, absolutely gracefully and dusted herself off. She harrumphed as he stood as well, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Schedule exchange?"

In a not entirely unanticipated response, May smacked herself on the forehead. "Oh, _fiddlesticks!_ See you later!"

"Fiddlesticks?" Drew muttered under his breath as he watched her sprint off toward the administrative building, and he shook his head. And she hadn't even corrected his intentional name mistake.

* * *

 **A/N: Look, I used someone else's name for a title instead of my own! Fuck me, right?**

 **How's everyone doing tonight? That's lovely.**

 **This is one of three high school/college AUs I've been working on simultaneously. What can I say, they're my guilty pleasure. But this time it's dancing instead of singing. I think I'm pretty unique, but feel free to refute that with textual evidence.**

 **I also need more reading material.**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoy.**

 **In other news, you're welcome, I'm finally going to appease the ikari- and contestshippers. Took me long enough. Of course, in True Suzukeii Style, leafgreenshipping will still be the most prominent.**


	2. But he liked what he was seeing so far

_**But he liked what he was seeing so far.**_

* * *

The subway line between Pewter and Blackthorn runs through the jagged mountain range dividing the Kanto and Johto regions. It is almost a direct line, with only one stop at the Indigo Plateau, known as the hub of Kantonese-Johtoan political connections and where various government functions are hosted. It is the second-longest and only interregional subway line in the Johto region, and a one-way trip lasts about twenty minutes, provided there are no technical difficulties or interruptions. Leaf spent her trip reading a mystery novel and trying to keep her suitcase from rolling to the opposite end of the car over the feet of passengers sporting impeccable suits. She felt woefully underdressed in her high-waisted denim shorts and well-loved strappy sandals.

The ride had taken her from Pewter City, a half-hour drive from Pallet Town along familiar forest and stretches of tall, viridian grass swaying gently in the breeze, to the city, after a rather emotional farewell, at least on her mother's part, at the station. Louis had tagged along, even offering to drive them there, and he promised to take care of her mother (so long as Leaf promised to do her best at Whittaker). He pulled her close, wished her good luck, and she was off.

The Neighbourhood's "Sweater Weather" blasted through Leaf's headphones as she disembarked from the subway, grey, cement walls and cool, underground air meeting her upon the first step into Blackthorn City. The morning crowd bustled about her and her rolling suitcase, which had been filled the day before to near bursting.

August was not going down without a fight, that was for certain. Pallet Town had been comfortable, but this was merciless. Leaf had ditched her jumper already and was debating changing her shirt as another drop of sweat rolled down her back. Thankfully she'd had the foresight to throw her long, brown hair up into a quick bun on the subway ride (maybe _too_ quick, it was starting to come undone). But she supposed she could be willing to look past the burning sun to enjoy the sights of a new place.

According to the map at the station, Blackthorn resembles a web of short streets at haphazard angles to one another from above, bordered on the south by a wide river and on the east by the Silver Mountains (not to be confused with Mount Silver, the tallest peak of the bunch). The school campus is nestled in the centre of the downtown historic district, a quarter of quaint, _fin-de-siècle_ brick and stone buildings.

Blackthorn reminded her of Viridian, definitely a city but not too off-puttingly urban. Leaf's suitcase rumbled over the pavement as the main entrance to Whittaker Academy of Dance appeared, a grand, stone archway, and she lugged it up the few stairs.

Once she'd stepped onto the grounds, it was as if she were in a totally different world.

The centrepiece of the campus is an enormous common, green and grassy scattered with occasional trees. Surrounding this common are several large, brick buildings set aside for classes and residence. Students milled about the courtyard, entering and exiting from the buildings. Others relaxed in the shade, talking to friends. Some pushed suitcases like she did. A group of boys had taken a corner of the green to take turns showing off impressive gymnastic-style stunts as, seemingly unknown to them, a girl sat on one of the benches nearby sketching them.

Leaf took a big breath, blew it out, and began to walk toward the building marked, helpfully enough, ADMINISTRATION.

She hadn't been expecting many people, but she felt a bit underwhelmed by the only two other people in the front lobby, one of which was whom she figured was the secretary.

"Hello," the woman said in her cordial, vanilla voice. She reminded Leaf of just that, Kalosian vanilla ice cream: blonde bun, pale skin, white top buttoned over a round frame. "How do you do?"

"Just fine, thanks," Leaf said. "I'm here to pick up my schedule and...materials. Leaf Green." To be frank, she wasn't really sure of what she needed. But Miss Vareze, as her nameplate insisted, seemed to be appropriately well-versed in the arts of welcoming students.

She rifled through a cabinet of folders, her fingers stepping over them with practised grace, until she found one that was indiscernible from any other.

"Leaf Green," she echoed. "Here's your schedule for the year, honey"— she seemed to flinch when Leaf took the pristine white paper from her and it immediately wrinkled in the brunette's hand —"and your key card for the room. You'll find an informational packet in your room, and if you have any further questions, don't hesitate to contact the administrative office." She had a smile like sugar. "We're all very friendly here."

Somehow, she could believe that.

oOo

Leaf knocked on the door of Room 315, her home for the next nine and a half months, only realising that she hadn't even bothered to check if it was locked or not in the first place (or, for that matter, if there was anyone to answer her knock).

"Howdy, roomie!" a girl said, Leaf wanted to say _too_ cheerfully, upon flinging open the door. She pushed her brown side fringe back, but her hair fell defiantly back to sweep past her wide, bright blue eyes and curl around her soft jawline. "I'm May Maple."

The sound of "Can't Touch This", the beat too iconic to miss, leaked out of the room past her. Leaf introduced herself, extending a hand, but the girl used it to pull her into a surprisingly cosy hug instead.

"I've got a feeling we're going to be great friends," May said once she relinquished her hold, and with a megawatt smile like that, Leaf could almost believe her. She had a cute Hoenn twang, too, not terribly thick, but just enough to add a little spice.

"So, what's your major?" May asked as she helped Leaf unpack. This girl made it apparent that Hoennese hospitality was not simply a stereotype, as she'd been resolute on the point of helping until Leaf finally gave in to her insistence.

"Musical theatre," Leaf said, and her roommate nodded in approval.

"I do hip-hop myself," she said. "Careful, though, the Klotz kids are crazy." At Leaf's slightly bemused expression, she clarified. "Klotz Hall has musical theatre, jazz, and tap. Gerig — that's where I go — has hip-hop and animation. Greenwood is lyrical and modern, and everybody knows Murphy. Ballet."

In the ensuing silence, Leaf observed May as the two worked on unpacking her. She _was_ cute, Leaf guessed around five-foot-three, and not as stick-thin as she'd expected every girl at a dance school to be. In fact, the brunette was rather well-endowed, which Leaf would have expected to work against her. Her skin was sun-kissed, a trademark of ever-warm Hoenn, and contrasted nicely with her sleeveless, eggshell top.

"So, May…" Leaf started when the hum of the air conditioner, however blissfully cool its breeze might have been, became irritating in that way that things in the absence of other noises are wont to do. "How long have you been dancing?"

Probably the most clichéd, unoriginal question to ask a fellow student, but May seemed happy enough, as expected, to answer that she'd been dancing for the past nine years.

"I started taking hip-hop classes at a studio in Oldale just to try it out," she said, "and I was hooked." She slipped a dress, white and lacy and probably Leaf might wear it tomorrow, onto a hanger and stuck it into the closet beside the others. "I don't think quitting's ever crossed my mind." She let out a short laugh. "I guess that's how I got here. I'm gonna be dancing in the movies one day."

Leaf supposed that was a valid dream for an aspiring dancer. Students came to Whittaker for different reasons: connections, a degree, or, in May's case, fame. Education at such a well-known, well-established school would certainly perk the ears of some employment recruiters.

Her clothes looked out of context in the white closet and chest of drawers. It had been difficult to stuff a life into one suitcase, but she'd made do in trying to make the room a bit more like home. Two photographs of her and Louis stood on her nightstand, one from her first class with him that her mother had demanded to take seven years ago and the other of the two of them caught in matching mid-leaps from last December. Next to those was a candid photo of her mother and father, probably from two decades ago.

"Is that your boyfriend?" May asked right from beside her ear, making Leaf jump. The shorter girl smiled mischievously. "He's cute."

"No, no, Louis is just my teacher," Leaf hastily said. "He's, like, ten years older than me or something. Plus, I think he's married. And gay."

Okay, so she didn't really know that, but if it would get Roomie off her case that'd be fine. May seemed satisfied with this answer but still stuck her tongue out childishly. She glanced at her wristwatch.

"Oh, boy, we'd better haul ass over to the recital hall for our first day lecture," she said. "We've got five minutes to get there!"

Leaf, who was not totally confident in her own ability to navigate the campus (in her defence, she'd first set foot there all of two hours ago), let herself be dragged by May across the courtyard. It was nearly empty, barring a few straggling students not unlike them, though most seemed less inclined to run than her roommate.

The Whittaker Academy of Dance's recital hall is an imposing building, white stone like the others and directly across from the administrative office. Several thick columns support the intricately-carved façade in a classical style reminiscent of some fancy-schmancy art museum. Stained-glass windows are set into its front, sides, and rear, a holdover from earlier times when the school was used as a seminary, but the interior has been remodelled several times.

Once they'd entered the auditorium and manoeuvred through the throng of buzzing students to find seats, May was excited to introduce Leaf to a slender girl with long, navy hair and ubertrendy clothes, Dawn Berlitz, whose makeup was as perfect as May was cheerful and who seemed amiable enough.

Unlike May, Dawn's bust was only slightly larger than Leaf's (whose friends back in Pallet Town teasingly claimed they could chop onions on it). In fact, May really did seem the exception. Practically no other girl about them was pushing a B-cup, but Leaf supposed it was an occupational hazard.

"Mind if I check your schedule?" Dawn asked. Leaf said she didn't and handed it over after, of course, attempting to smooth it out from being stuffed unceremoniously into the pocket of her shorts earlier. (Miss Vareze must have died a bit on the inside.)

"You've got ballet last period B days?" Dawn asked as she scanned Leaf's timetable. The brunette realised only now that she'd been in too much of a rush to bother looking at it herself, but she still nodded, as though she totally knew that already. "Nice. That's the second-highest level."

"Is this the whole school?" Leaf asked, straightening up a bit to crane her neck and see the entirety of the grand theatre. She estimated there were about eight hundred students sitting in the comfortable, maroon seats and chatting away to their friends.

"Yep," May supplied. "Cosy, ain't it?" Leaf nodded. She'd attended high school in Pallet Town with about sixteen hundred other students. This was nothing.

She just hoped, no matter how ridiculous the hope might have been, that they'd all be Maples and Varezes.

oOo

Meanwhile, Drew and Paul stood impatiently by the front door, waiting for a certain auburn-haired Lothario to make his grand appearance. Finally, five minutes after the scheduled start time of the assembly, the late Garrison Oak arrived.

"Another chick?" Drew asked, an eyebrow raised. Gary neither confirmed nor denied, but the slight smirk that graced his lips was enough of an answer to send the greenhead's eyes a-rolling.

"You're literally a fucking idiot," Paul deadpanned.

"Relax, Paulie-bear," he said smoothly, rather unapologetic for someone who'd very nearly cost them halfway-decent seats. "I'm a nice guy, so I'll give you her number if you want."

Drew was certain to sit between seething Paul and seemingly oblivious Gary, though he was seriously considering just letting tall, dark, and moody have his way with the cad.

Gary surveyed the heads in the theatre around him and recognised Dawn Berlitz's navy locks and May Maple's caramel beside her a few rows ahead of him. Gary Oak prided himself on his ability to recognise any girl at school from the front or back, so when the long, brunette ponytail both of them were in conversation with didn't seem familiar, he knew he had some introducing to do.

But he definitely liked what he was seeing so far.

A man, someone who looked vaguely familiar, stepped onto the stage and approached the microphone to polite applause. His face was lived-in, but his step was still light and gave him an air of energy. He introduced himself as Scott Abraham, and, like his face, the name seemed familiar for a reason Gary couldn't quite pin down.

"To our new students," Scott Abraham said, "welcome. To our returning students, welcome back.

"I can imagine you're wondering why Mr Locke isn't here to deliver the opening oratory. Unfortunately, he has made the decision to leave his position for a comfortable retirement. But I assure you, as the new headmaster, I will keep this school running well and running long. There is no doubt in my mind that you are all incredible students and dancers: Otherwise, you would not be sitting here. So I congratulate you all. Whittaker is not a school for the weak-willed, and the dance world is not a future for the weak-willed.

"However, we have not found as much of an interest in the school as there has been in prior years. The solution falls to the shoulders of you students yourselves, and I have complete faith that you all can manage it deftly. The staff, with the aid of the mayor of Blackthorn, has proposed a new event to revitalise the school. A showcase, if you will, of only our greatest performers. The best of the best. There will be opportunities for a life as you've always dreamed. I hope you will all step up to this challenge and expand your horizons as you learn and grow here.

"Thank you, and have an excellent year here at Whittaker."

Ponytail said something to May, making her throw her head back with a laugh.

When he approached her after Scott Abraham's parting words, Gary came to the conclusion that the back of her head, however beautiful, could hardly do the front justice. It was like she'd shot him straight through the heart.

One look was all it took before he knew that she was going to be perfect.

"They didn't tell me an angel enrolled here," he said with his trademark half-smile-and-wink combination that would always send the girls to their knees. He was surprised when her pretty lips twisted into a frown (less so when Dawn and May beside her rolled their eyes in sync), but he didn't let it break his air of confidence.

"Right," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And you need a map because you're _lost_ in my eyes, and every bone in my body is beautiful, especially yours." May snickered beside her.

"Actually, no," he said, "but mind if I steal that?" She snorted with laughter, and Gary considered that a victory. "Gary Oak," he said, extending a hand out, which she took after a pensive moment to shake. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her hand up to place a kiss on the back of it, looking right into her eyes.

Maybe he _did_ need a map to navigate that coffee brown, flecked with gold.

* * *

 **A/N: The first thing I did when I sat down to write was delete a sentence so this writing thing is working out great.**

 **I kind of imagine Blackthorn to be a bit like Québec City, a city but not city-city like Toronto. Warm. Approachable. The cradle of French civilisation in North America.**

 **You can tell I'm not a city person.**

 **PS. Yes, songs will be mentioned in this story; it's about dancing, after all. It's totally up to you guys if you want to take a listen. Whenever I write these things I actually plan out soundtracks, too, most of the time.**

 **PPS. Thanks to my one lovely guest reviewer, Kailee. Great moves, keep it up, proud of you. :)**


	3. Maple told me about you

**_Maple told me about you._**

* * *

May was up with the sun the next day, and she made no secret of it. And then she let Dawn in, who was apparently also an early riser. Maybe it was some kind of Whittaker disease.

Leaf, with her head buried in her pillow as a poorly-crafted noise and light reducer, hoped it was contagious.

Though there are small kitchens in the rooms themselves, theirs was rather devoid of anything edible at this point, so the three of them headed for the dining hall and the promise of fresh breakfast. Leaf was still a bit groggy as she followed behind the other two, who were neck-deep in a rather animated conversation about something or other. She wasn't really paying attention, so when Dawn suddenly demanded her opinion on the topic, she could only settle for a noncommittal shrug. At least May found the reaction funny.

Even without a helpful suggestion from Dawn, Leaf had decided a cappuccino would do her some good. She followed their examples and grabbed a sandwich — egg, cheese, ham, and something else, it smelled divine — but the first thing she did when she sat down with them at a table was indulge herself in a steaming sip of coffee.

According to the clock hanging on the wall nearby, it was just before seven o'clock. The dining hall, which can easily fit three hundred students, wasn't particularly busy, but classes wouldn't begin until eight. Leaf couldn't blame other kids for getting breakfast at a decent hour. Well, either that, or they were Whittaker Early Bird Disease-positive and had come even before she had. (But that seemed doubtful. Even dance academy kids had their limits. Right?)

"Hey, Leaf," May said, then swallowed the bite of sandwich in her mouth. "What's your first class today?"

Leaf wracked her brain, hoping the coffee would help. She'd maybe, stupidly, only taken a couple looks at her timetable, and it would have caught up with her sooner or later. "Conditioning?" she guessed, and it sounded right.

"Rou-ugh," May said, stretching the word out into two syllables. "I've got it first thing tomorrow, so at least I'll have a day to mentally prepare myself."

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad." Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're scaring her, May." The brunette glanced at Leaf, whose eyebrows were perhaps a wee bit drawn together in concern, and laughed.

"Just don't complain. Castiel will step up into your _butt_ if you whine." Her voice suddenly dropped to a baritone. "Fifty push-ups, and I'll be seeing you behind Gerig Hall at three o'clock! Punk!" She collapsed into a fit of giggles that Leaf joined after a moment, and even Dawn was smiling.

oOo

Even without May's description, Lt Castiel Dunham was a terrifying man in and of himself. He could have been approaching thirty, forty, seventy, it didn't matter; just being in the same room as he was made one stand straighter and melted the smile off of a face.

"We had to crawl through the jungles of the Sevii Islands, footslog through mud that sucked men in by the dozen, and fight raging blizzards of the very north of Sinnoh!" he barked, as though recounting his war experiences would encourage the teenagers in his conditioning class to get their "butts in gear". It didn't seem to do much in the way of inspiration, but it certainly would provide something to snicker about after class. More threatening was his face, maroon, and the cords in his neck straining to burst out.

Yes, a truly terrifying sight.

The whole room was humid to the point of stickiness once the clock struck ten. Leaf wasn't as sore as she'd expected, but she knew she would feel like she'd gotten hit by a freight train in the morning. After a quick check of her timetable and the map of the school that had been provided in the informational packet, Leaf headed off for Room A1 of Bates Hall.

Bates Hall, like Gerig Hall, was a later addition to the school, included to adapt to the changing times and interests of the student body. The only indication of this is perhaps it is slightly less weathered than the other buildings. It hosts ballroom classes on the first storey and folkloric on the second, and it sees the fewest number of students, expectedly, though the number of students majoring in these styles has gradually increased over the years since construction.

To be perfectly honest, Leaf wasn't quite sure what had driven her to choose ballroom as one of her classes. She'd never had any experience with the style. Perhaps it was only curiosity.

But you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.

"You're kidding," she muttered once she'd entered the room and seen a certain person she thought (ridiculously) she'd managed to evade. Of course, it was Gary Oak, chatting up some girls. How was she not surprised. She plopped her bag down by the door, trying to stay as undetectable as possible.

Unfortunately, she hadn't had time to change between conditioning and ballroom, so now she was just a hot mess in her athletic shorts and tank top. At least she'd brought a pair of appropriate shoes (found last-minute by Louis, the _light_ of her life), and she was fairly certain she could manage the two-inch heels.

There were two teachers, Natalia and Ivan, both with thick accents and in need of an attitude adjustment. Natalia was particularly unimpressed with Leaf's outfit, but the brunette assured her it wouldn't happen again. The teachers didn't waste a moment as the clock struck half ten to begin class, and they'd hardly begun teaching the foxtrot before corrections went flying like it was a war zone.

"Stand straight, Miss Booth, you are not a sack of potatoes."

"Your mother did not teach you right and left, Mr Mason? Lead with left foot."

"Too stiff, Miss Green! Again!"

Leaf had found herself partnered with Liam Fournier, a young man with a curly head of dark hair and a tendency to bite his lip in concentration. Gary was across the room, gliding smoothly along with a blonde who seemed to be glowing with utter delight. But it wasn't as though Leaf were remotely interested in what _he_ was doing. Definitely not.

Sudden pain in her toes ripped her gaze away from him, and she stifled a curse. Liam mouthed an apology to her, his green eyes wide. She shook her head. She'd been too slow. She hadn't been paying attention to the steps.

By quarter past twelve, Leaf was absolutely certain of one thing: ballroom was going to be hell, and in more ways than one.

Liam, as apologetic as he was, couldn't make up for the heinous crimes he'd committed against her toes. "I'm sorry," he said, for what must have been the seven-thousandth time that morning as they packed their bags. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess smooth stuff's not really my thing." Leaf could, unsurprisingly, agree.

Then there was the matter of the teachers. Natalia proved to be a nitpicker of no less than virtuosic proportions, though Ivan came in a close second. Leaf shouldn't, couldn't, have expected any less from a world-class dance academy. With teachers like these, Whittaker seemed determined to make Pallet a daycare in comparison.

And finally, _that_ git. Gary Oak was far from guiltless. He insisted on making every move look flawless and using that certain undeniable charisma to bring the girls about him to puddles while Leaf stewed in her own little cloud of annoyance and foot pain and earnest apologies. Every time she looked over at him, it seemed as though he'd read her mind to catch her eye and give her an all-too smug smile. And Leaf pushed aside the little voice that suggested he was distracting in anything but an utterly irritating way.

oOo

"I see you're not dead yet," May said over Leaf's shoulder at lunch as she plopped herself into the next seat at the same table from breakfast. "Just wait until tomorrow morning."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Leaf said then sank her teeth into a chicken caesar salad wrap. After four hours of dance, she realised she was famished and totally regretted not getting an apple or something on the side in addition to the wrap.

Dawn, less excitedly than May, slid into the seat across the table a few minutes later. "Were classes all right?" she asked over the baby carrot in her hand.

"Sure," Leaf said once she'd swallowed, "but are all the teachers here so crazy?"

"No, it's all just in your head," May teased, bumping Leaf's shoulder with her elbow. "Lemme guess… You had Dunham, so…" She tapped her chin with her index finger. "...Natalia?"

"She's a good teacher," Dawn instantly defended.

"Yeah, but she's loony," May said. "I think she ran a prison camp north of Snowpoint before coming here." Leaf didn't think it was her place to second something like that, especially when Dawn's mouth quirked into such a frown, but she offered the compromise of a half-smile.

"Anyway…" May continued with a sip of her water. "What's the scuttlebutt? Anything new?"

"It's the _first_ day of classes, May," Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah? And Gary Oak's probably on his third girl this year already."

It had probably been too much to ask of the gods that the three of them might enjoy a peaceful lunch without the mention of that name, Leaf supposed. Some people were just _too_ popular.

Finally, it was time for musical theatre. Leaf was excited to see what other students of Klotz Hall would offer. The warm-ups and exercises felt pleasantly familiar to her muscles after the first two classes of the day, and the atmosphere was relaxed.

She was surprised to see Liam there. "You don't have to worry," he said when he saw her. "Frank's not going to make us pair up." He smiled, and she couldn't help but return it, partly out of sheer relief. He introduced her to Pam, a short girl with short hair and an even shorter attention span.

Liam had the tendency to throw himself into every move in an almost Chaplinesque style, and on several occasions Leaf was certain he would fall and hurt himself ridiculously. But he never did, and he and Pam kept the whole class entertained with their antics.

Leaf decided she liked him when he wasn't accidentally breaking her toes.

oOo

According to the school's site, the dress code for ballet is pink tights and a leotard in black, maroon, or pink. Now Leaf was determined, especially after recalling Natalia's terrifying glare, to dress appropriately.

Leaf walked into Room A2 of Murphy Hall to see a group of the skinniest girls she'd ever seen. They were a carbon-copied sea of pink tights and black leotards, and she felt incredibly noticeable (and not necessarily in a good way) in her maroon leotard and eggshell legwarmers. Cue instant fashion regret.

"You must be Leaf," a green-haired boy, not unattractive, said to her while she tied the ribbons of her pointe shoes. When she looked up at him, she must have looked somewhat confused, because he added, "Maple told me about you. Drew Hayden."

He was handsome in a sort of boyish way that, at eighteen or nineteen he was, he hadn't yet grown out of. And he looked a bit familiar…

"We had conditioning together this morning," he helpfully said, as though he'd read her mind, and it clicked. She was still caught up in the First Day Rush, so she could forgive herself for not immediately recognising him. Not to mention she'd been a wee bit too busy trying to keep up in conditioning to really pay much mind to the identities of other students about her.

There was a certain scientific precision to Deanna's class. She was pleasant, but even so she demanded no less than the best from each of her students. Barre exercises quickly turned into floor exercises.

Leaf felt a familiar buzz through her body, that rush of adrenaline that was, in a way, comforting, as all of the dancers queued for _grand allegro_. They fell into place as groups of five to cross the floor with striking unity, _glissades_ smooth as silk and _pas de chats_ light and prickly. Her turn came quickly, and the brunette relaxed herself into preparatory position, counted to eight, and pushed off.

She felt the memory in her muscles of a combination she had probably done hundreds of times before with minor differences. As she struck _arabesque_ , she kept her chest raised, confident her foot reached no lower than the level of her head.

She tried to catch any response from Deanna, but the teacher was already focusing on the next group, throwing corrections across the wide room.

Leaf looked on as she tucked a strand of hair, loosened by a particularly rapid _tour jeté_ , back into its pin. Conditioning Boy Drew crossed the floor without error, substituting the choreographed double pirouette at the end for an impressive set _à la seconde_ that made the girls titter.

 _Ah_ , Leaf thought, _so he's another one of_ those.

As they completed _reverence_ , Leaf sighed in relief to herself. Finally, the end of today's last class had come. Not that she hadn't expected attending Whittaker to be tough, but expecting and doing weren't quite the same thing, after all. She unraveled the laces of her shoes from her ankles, and out of the corner of her eye she could spy a head of green hair, leaning against the wall by the door. It touched her, in a way, that he had decided to wait for her.

"So, you enjoying yourself?" Drew asked on their way to the dining hall. It was nearing six in the evening, and the students who milled about the grounds showed no sign of the hustle of the fifteen-minute intervals between classes.

"Definitely," Leaf said. "It's...different. I really do like it."

"Good to hear. Good to hear," he said again, a bit absently. "Witt's a fantastic school. The teachers are first-rate, the students are decent, too. Well, for the most part." He allowed himself a bit of a smile at that, though Leaf got the impression it wasn't directed towards her.

They chatted aimlessly, jumping from topic to topic. Something about the boy just made it easy to speak with him and forget where they were.

Drew was recounting his favourite anecdotes about various teachers when, to Leaf's surprise, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. "You know what, I'll see you later," the boy said, and Leaf noticed they were already close to the dining hall. The sight of her roommate, in animated conversation with another student, caught her eye, but she looked back at her companion in bemusement.

"You're not coming in?"

"Ah, no, not at the moment," Drew said. He relaxed slightly. "I've just got to...drop some things off in my room. I'll be back later." Leaf only shrugged and watched him walk off for a moment before heading in the direction of dinner.

"Hey, Leaf, nice to see you again," May said once she'd arrived. "We're just waiting on Dawn now." After a moment, the girl seemed to realise her company. "This here's Brendan," she introduced, and the boy standing next to her offered a pleasant smile and a hand to Leaf. "He majors in hip hop, too, though he's not as good as me."

Brendan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Something told Leaf he was used to May's character.

May started again. "So anyway, like I was saying—"

"Brendan!" They all turned to see a young man, tall with cropped, blond hair and a streak of sunburn across his cheeks, approaching the dining hall. Another one followed, the sleeves of his t-shirt pushed up past his shoulders. "Sorry to keep you waiting," the first said. "CJ here just _had_ to have his twenty-minute shower."

"The _Deitz_ needs to be meticulously clean," the second retaliated. "And I'll be kind enough to remind you that it was _your_ shoe that was 'stolen' and found ten minutes later in your own bag."

"Clean? You were probably just ogling _sexy Pa_ —"

"It's totally cool, guys," Brendan interrupted, just as the blond was breaking out the air quotes. His voice was deeper than Leaf had expected, toned with the same drawly accent as May's, though it suited him. "I really don't mind, Dennis."

"Of course you don't mind. You get to hang out with your _girlfriend_."

"Sure. Both of them," Brendan recovered in no time, though it was obvious to all parties whom Dennis was referring to.

With that, the two boys quickly dragged him away with hardly a moment to spare for a farewell. Then it was only a matter of a minute or two before Dawn showed, a bit out of breath and apologising for being late.

"Frank really worked you that hard?" May teased, but the bluenette just waved her off and they entered the dining hall.

oOo

The summer sun lounged low in the sky, bathing the grounds in a reddish glow as Leaf and May returned to their room from dinner. Dawn had left earlier, yawning widely and excusing herself to turn in soon.

Instead of following the main path, May had led Leaf out through the back door of the dining hall to walk along a narrow trail. The trail, flanked by heavy-boughed beeches and always alive with the sound of chirping chaffinches, serves as the boundary between the grounds of the school and the city streets surrounding it. On an especially hot summer's day, it is more common for students to use the well-shaded path whenever possible.

The sounds of South Baldwick Avenue to their left were unobtrusive through the tall, wrought iron fence, thick with climbing plants. Loose gravel, speckled by the ribbons of late light peeking through the flora, crunched beneath their feet.

"So," Leaf started, hesitant to break the pleasant quiet. "How long have you known Drew?"

May stuck out her tongue. "That dork? He transferred here a couple years ago. Unfortunately, he's from Hoenn, too." She must have caught on to Leaf's slight confusion, because she added, "He grew up in the city. Rich folks. They're too fancy to have rube accents like the rest of us."

"Have you two always shared such a... _special_ relationship?" Leaf couldn't help but ask.

"Only as long as he's been an incorrigible pain in the ass," May said with a wry shrug. "So, yeah."

"What about Dawn?"

May smiled. When she spoke, her voice was gentler, considerably so. "Oh, we've been together going on four, five years now. She was my first friend here, you know." She fell into a thoughtful silence, but Leaf didn't prod. After a moment, she continued. "Some people think she's stuck up, because she likes to do her own thing. But she's not. Believe me. She doesn't know the meaning of stuck up."

As she let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxed suddenly, though Leaf hadn't noticed them tense.

Her smile was back shortly. "Come on," May said, taking Leaf by the hand. "I wanted to catch the latest episode of _Johto's Got Talent_."

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome to the annual update of Step Up. I'd throw confetti, but for the life of me, I can't find any confetti.**

 **I dare you to go back and find the title drop embedded in this chapter.**

 **You know the drill. Especially if you've got any questions! Don't hesitate to ask and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Thanks to LaughingMangoes, Kazuya RandomAuthor, Julie Togepi, and Ebaz for the beautiful reviews. Appreciate ya.**

 **And in response to Miss Togepi, well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?**

 **P.S. As for next update... Could either be this one, or maybe we'll finally get somewhere with _Lulu_. We'll see.**


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